Nothing in common?
by Sandra S
Summary: Her new baby leads Harriet's mind back to the one she lost ... and there are some other surprising results. Heed author's note in profile. COMPLETE
1. Time is a great healer

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Part of the story is dealing with the loss of a child. Please stop reading if this upsets you. Oh, and in later chapters will be a bit W/M but not in this one. You've been warned!

* * *

**- The Roberts' house**

"He named our boy after Star Trek." Harriet couldn't hold the groan completely out of her voice. She shifted James Kirk Roberts in her arm, caught the receiver before it could drop and shoved it deeper between her shoulder and cheek. On the line was a suppressed chuckle.

"Don't worry too much, Harriet. James K. Roberts isn't such a bad name," was the calm response. There were some heartbeats of silence before he added: "I'm very glad, everything went well this time. I really am, Harriet."

"So am I," she whispered back. God, she had been so afraid the last weeks before the birth. So scared. She kissed her son softly then bit her lip to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes again. So damned scared.

"Thank you for calling, Harriet," he said finally and he sounded sincere. "I'm still running some tests and it's ... somewhat hard to escape here. So I couldn't manage to..." he trailed off.

"I understand," Harriet reassured quickly. "Of course. You don't have to ... to apologize."

Silence again.

"So ... I wish you the best, Harriet."

"Thank you." Harriet sensed he was about to hang up and blurted out the next words. "I - I ... What I wanted to say..."

"Yes, Harriet?" he probed because she didn't continue. Harriet took the receiver in her hand.

"I just wanted to tell you... You were right."

He waited.

"Time heals every wound. At least up to a point." She heard him sigh.

"Sometimes it's just hard to believe, isn't it?" he sounded sad. "Goodbye, Harriet."

Before she could respond the line went dead. Slowly she put the phone down. Talking to him was ... strange. They were not close at all but sometimes ... it seemed they understood each other better than the rest of the whole world would ever be able to do.

She had nearly called him when she learned about her pregnancy. She had been so happy, so upset and at the same time scared to death. After that horrible year with Bud's injury, his fight back to life, back to work ... she had been sure she would never stand the loss of another baby. The need to call him had surprised her. In the end she hadn't but just because she'd had no phone number.

Harriet rocked her son gently. He was no substitute for her little Sarah. Of course not! A few days ago she had visited her grave. While she had been standing there she had realized that the pain inside was still there, yes - but over the last years it had faded little by little, to a point where it was bearable. Yes, he had been right. She had gone through hell but in the end it was true what they said: Time was a great healer.

Harriet looked at the phone once more and sighed. She had never talked about that day at the cemetery - not even to Bud. Oh, he had never asked her to keep it a secret but somehow ... it had always ... seemed to be the right thing to do. It was something special just between the two of them. Well, and AJ but it was very unlikely that her first son remembered anything ... except for the cake maybe.

She settled back, still holding her son tightly in her arms and remembered. That day. That day at the cemetery...

* * *

**_FLASHBACK_**

**- Arlington cemetery, Sunday afternoon, two years ago**

Harriet Roberts stood motionless in front of the grave of her little daughter. The daughter she would never see playing, laughing or crying. The daughter she would never see growing up. The daughter she had never been allowed to hold for one brief moment.

Harriet pressed her hands together. A small part of herself was wondering how much it still hurt. More than half a year had passed since that horrible day. It was supposed to get better as time goes by. They kept telling her so, didn't they? That time was going to heal every wound. Then why was it still hurting so bad, so sharp?

'Oh God, Sarah, Sarah, my darling. It hurts, it still hurts so badly.'

She sighed and turned at the wailing sound behind her. Her little son had thrown his teddy bear out of the stroller and wasn't able to reach it now. Harriet picked up the toy, dusted off the fur and gave the teddy back into the longing arms of her son. She ran her fingers through the boy's hair what he answered with an unwilling headshake.

After one last look back to the simple gravestone she pushed the stroller back to the path and walked slowly in the direction of the exit. Looking straight ahead she tried to fight against the tears welling up in her eyes. She had to be strong. Strong for her son. Strong for Bud. Strong for herself.

Once she had given into her weakness and had gone to Commander Rabb. And she had hurt Bud with it. She didn't want to hurt him again. But, God, sometimes it seemed to tear her up, to strangle her, to...

She felt the first tear on her cheek and lifted the hand to wipe it off. But it was too late. A sob shook her and she pressed the hand on her mouth, tried to stifle the sound. She barley managed the few steps to the next bench before her inner walls collapsed. She buried her face in her hands and cried. Cried for Sarah, cried for Bud and cried for herself. Later she wasn't able to tell how long she sat like that, crying her heart out. But it took a long time until she calmed down enough to catch a full breath again.

Somebody cleared his throat in front of her.

It was a male voice.

Startled Harriet took her head out of her hands. Neat fingers offered a handkerchief as white as snow. She lifted her head a little bit more and looked into the face of Clayton Webb. Her cheeks started to burn.

Webb said nothing. He just offered her the handkerchief again in a more emphatic gesture. Speechless for the moment she took it and dabbed ineffectively at her face. But still she wasn't able to stop the damned tears from falling. For one more moment the man just stood in front of her then he sat down quietly. And in silence he kept a polite distance to her side, waiting patiently for the sobs to subside.

Harriet felt like a complete fool. She tried to sit straight, took her shoulders back and blew her nose. The next second she wanted to kick herself. Heavens, it was his handkerchief! Again she felt her face burning with embarrassment. She didn't dare to look at him.

"Harriet, that's what it's made for." A hint of amusement was in his voice.

'Oh God, I must pull myself together!' She forced herself to lift her head and dabbed one last time at her wet cheeks. She groaned inwardly. She wasn't one of those women who could cry in beauty. Not that she wanted to impress the man next to her or fell for the illusion she could do so. Somebody of his social rank with - what had the Commander called it? Old Money? - and what was more, working for the CIA ... She wished she could just disappear.

"Better?" Webb asked softly. She had never heard him talk like that before.

She swallowed hard, tightened her fist around the handkerchief and nodded.

"Yes. Yes, thank you. It's better now. I'm all right." It was a lie. She knew that. But she had to be strong.

"No, you're not." It was a statement and not a question.

Surprised Harriet looked into his eyes and he held her gaze calm and steady. After a few seconds she broke the contact. What could she say? Of course she wasn't all right. Maybe she would never be again. She looked down at the handkerchief in her hands and asked herself what she should do next. Give it back to him, say thank you and walk away? Keep it and walk away? Stay put until he was going to leave? Stay put until the end of days? Great possibilities. She heard something like a sigh.

"Come on, Harriet. Let's have a cup of coffee." He got up.

She just stared. His face revealed nothing.

"Coffee, Harriet. Don't worry - I'll eat neither you nor your son."

With a start she turned her head to Little-AJ whose silence was absolutely unnatural. Relieved she found him sound asleep. She hesitated for a moment then got up herself. She didn't know why Webb had made his offer. But she was exhausted and still upset and definitely in no condition to drive home right now. Suddenly coffee sounded like a pretty good idea.

* * *

- A café near the cemetery, half an hour later

The waiter arrived and quickly set their order on the table. A coffee with whipped cream for Harriet, a piece of cake for Little-AJ and a cup of tea for Clayton Webb. His choice had surprised her and she hadn't been able to resist asking for the reason.

Why tea, Mister Webb?

Sometimes you need a change, Harriet. Besides, yesterday I was stuck in a meeting nearly all day long. I can't stand the taste of coffee right now.

And that had ended the conversation at this point.

Then Harriet had left AJ with Webb for a visit to the toilette and a little freshening up. She had almost laughed at the sight of the two of them eying each other suspiciously when she had returned. But just almost.

Anyway, she felt definitely better now but it had been impossible to mask her swollen eyes completely. She poured some sugar into her cup. Webb shook his head when she offered him the bowl and inspected his teabag instead. He started to play with its cord.

Harriet watched the whipped cream melt into the coffee. She didn't know what to say and obviously he didn't know either. Suddenly she remembered the fact that he had never given her any condolences after Baby Sarah's death. Neither had he said anything to Bud, as far as she knew. She thought back to their first conversation not long after her return to work. At that time Commander Rabb had called Webb almost daily to ask for news about Sergei. Or better: To ask for not existing news.

Judge Advocate General, Lieutenant Roberts speaking. Can I help you?

Webb. Where's the Commander?

Commander Rabb is in a meeting. Can I take a message, Mister Webb?

Tell him the answers to his questions are: Yes - yes - yes - yes - and no.

I ... uhm ... Yes, Mister Webb.

Good. - KLICK -

It had been so short after Sarah ... She forced herself to drop the thought. Again she felt tears stinging in her eyes.

"It's going to be a little bit better. Time heals every wound ... at least up to a point."

Webb's voice startled her. And suddenly a wave of fury rushed over her. They kept saying that. All people kept saying that. Who gave them the right to do so? They didn't feel what she was feeling. They couldn't.

"How on earth you want to know that?" she hissed angrily. She wanted to lash out, to hurt somebody, to let them feel her pain. He looked up and met her furious eyes. Just for a second, then he dropped his gaze and stirred slowly in his cup.

And in this short moment she saw it.

Her mouth fell open but she didn't notice it. Floored by the realization. Stunned by this unexpected discovery. And ashamed down to the bones.

He knew how it was. He knew it the only way someone could really know it. The only way you could really understand ... understand this pain beyond anything bearable. This pain she had recognized in his eyes.

"I ... I didn't ... I had no clue..." she stammered. She couldn't help it. Her head seemed so empty and filled with confusion at the same time.

"I don't talk about it very often." Webb's voice was calm. Controlled. And a little bit tired. He concentrated on his cup and avoided eye contact.

"How...? When...?" She bit her lips. He shook his head almost imperceptible. He fished the teabag out of the cup and placed it on the saucer.

"I'm sorry." It was so insufficient. She had hated those words but what else could she say. He lifted his head but still avoided her eyes.

"Don't, Harriet. Don't do to me what you can't bear yourself."

His understanding left her speechless.

Webb frowned. He tilted his head and a small ironical smile played around his lips.

"I guess I would have been a terrible father anyway," he added quietly.

Confused she followed his gaze and groaned. She had forgotten an important thing: The result every time her son got near a spoon and a piece of cake. As usual it was a total mess.

"Oh, AJ!" She took the spoon out of the boy's hand, brushed most crumbs off him and the table - thank God, they were sitting outside - and started to feed him the rest of the destroyed cake. A stifled laugh caused her to turn around.

"I'm sorry. But to see this in combination with the name AJ..." Webb covered his mouth with his hand.

It took Harriet a few heartbeats to understand the context then she giggled too. To imagine: Her harsh CO Admiral AJ Chegwidden in front of a plate like this and the cake smeared all over his face... Little-AJ protested loud as his mother nearly dropped the spoon in laughter. All grown-ups seemed to be crazy today.

Harriet wiped the tears off her face. Good tears this time. She calmed the boy down and took a couple of sips of her coffee. Webb went back to silence although she felt his observing eyes on her. None of them broke the silence until they had finished and he paid. Together they stepped out of the café.

"Thanks for the invitation. I'm all right now." Harriet felt shy as they stood there. His gaze examined her closely. Finally he nodded, smiled briefly and started to leave. She called him back after a few steps.

"Mister Webb?"

He turned around and raised his brows. "Yes?"

"It's kind of learning by doing."

He looked slightly confused. "Pardon?"

"I think you would be a good father."

He was silent for an eternity. She couldn't read his mind. Then he smiled at something. Maybe at himself.

"Thanks, Harriet."

He walked away without looking back. But she did.

**_END FLASHBACK_**

* * *

**- The Roberts' house**

Harriet caressed her son's face gently. That day at the cemetery had taught her more about Clayton Webb than she had learned in all the years before it. She wondered not for the first time if he had told the Colonel of his dead child yet. But it was his decision. And meanwhile she would handle it as a secret between the two of them.


	2. Complications and ideas

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Clayton Webb's hospital room**

Webb stared at the phone without seeing it. It was true: He was glad that Harriet and her baby were all right. And he appreciated her call as what it was - an outstretched hand of two peoples who shared the painful knowledge how it was to loose a child. When he had seen her sitting on that bench, crying like that... He hadn't been able to walk past.

He had never intended to tell her, though. In fact he had tried to avoid the Roberts and not just after the death of their child. He couldn't feel comfortable around pregnant women. He couldn't feel exactly comfortable around children too but pregnant women ... there were too many memories to deal with.

And the jealousy.

This awful jealousy. He couldn't help it. Why were they allowed to be so lucky and he wasn't? It was wrong and totally screwed up but still ... he couldn't help it. And it had made him feel terrible when he had learned what had happened to Harriet. Guilty.

When she had lashed out at him in that café he had seen the same anger, the same helpless scream in her soul. The same question without an answer: Why me? He had understood so perfectly. There were wounds that could only heal so far.

He had tried not to think of Harriet when he had learned that she was pregnant again. As if his thoughts could put a curse on her. And he had been so glad when Mac told him she was all right and her son too. But as Mac had continued to talk about the baby - how sweet and tiny and wonderful - he had felt his walls coming up again. For the first time he had wished she'd leave the room soon.

Speaking of Sarah - there things weren't running smoothly too. Maybe he should have told her more about the information in that file before giving it to her. But he had fallen back into his old habit of 'humor JAG when they ask for information and eventually you'll get something back in return'. Information was information and it was valuable to possess it first of all - the use could be considered later. It seemed like that wasn't working well for a lawyer.

He didn't know if the incident with the file was the reason Mac drew back from him or the fact that Harm had decided to join the CIA. And Webb didn't agree with Kershaw concerning that point. Harm was ... well, Harm and just this fact should have disqualified him from working in the shadows of intelligence services. It was only a matter of time until the man's conscience and his mission were getting in conflict. And then Webb certainly didn't want to be around and handle the fallout. But right now there was nothing he could do about it than playing along.

However, Mac had asked him to take it slow. She had talked about dating and growing together and it had sounded reasonable. Unfortunately the real problems had started right at that point. It seemed they weren't able to talk without stumbling over something classified - because a great part of his life was classified, so to say - or something he simply wasn't able to talk about without stirring up the pain again.

Like his child. He never talked about his child.

Funny. Sarah had been concerned if she could trust him - and now he wasn't able to trust her enough to let her in this part of his life. Not now when he wasn't sure about her intentions. And so he had started to pile up the walls even higher ... and he was a master of building walls around soft spots of his soul. He knew it wasn't fair to let Mac run into these walls. But he wasn't ready to share the memory.

This special memory. Of soft hot skin under his hand. Of a tiny heart beating fast against his fingers. And the smell of chemicals and hospital.

Webb shook his head violently to break the train of thought. He didn't want to go there. He couldn't. He wished fervently for a drink or a run of ten miles or anything that would prevent him from thinking. But of course that was no option right now. With a little luck the strict "no sports, no driving, no alcohol and stay in bed" rule of the doctors would be history tomorrow when they got the last test results. He knew his nerves - and not just the physical ones - still needed time to heal but on the other hand he really needed to get out of the hospital. He had already spent too much time of his life in these facilities, either to be taken care of ... or to take care of somebody else. Or to watch someone die. Again he forced himself to change the direction of his thoughts.

Anyway, considering this special memory or not, he had had to bottle up his feelings almost all his life. It was part of his job and sometimes it was simply necessary to survive without getting insane. How could he be expected to change this old habit in a few days?

He pinned all his hope on the possibility that Mac would be able to understand.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters, Wednesday, one week later**

"I don't care how just get me the damned file!" After being heard through the whole bullpen Mac stormed into her office and slammed the door. Bud, who had barely avoided getting in her way by pressing himself against the next desk, let out a breath of relief. He turned to Coates.

"Wow, she's mad today. Don't take it personally. Commander Turner has beaten her in court and I think she's quite upset about it."

"I don't mind if she's angry and I don't care if the reason is work or love life or whatever," Coates gulped before she continued, "But she doesn't have to dump it on my head!"

Bud ignored the last comment and handed her a stack of files. "Can you sort them in? I've got to go to an interview."

Coates rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes, of course. Just all on my head." Then she took a closer look. "Uhm ... Is something wrong? I mean, you look ... well..."

Bud groaned. "Don't ask."

"You know, you can always talk to me. Is ... something with the baby?"

"It had been so easy with AJ," Bud complained exhausted. "We fed him, changed the diaper, put him in his bed and fine. But Jimmy..."

"Long night?" Coates had sympathy in her voice but the corners of her mouth were twitching.

"I'd be grateful for just one long night. But it's like this for almost a week now!"

"How often do you have to get up?"

"All fifty minutes straight. He's regular as clockwork." Bud shook his head. "And when he cries, he wakes AJ up and then you have to deal with two cranky boys and when AJ hasn't got enough sleep he's cranky all day and -" He had to come up for air.

"I see. So Harriet is pretty exhausted too, huh?" Coates tried to change the subject before the stressed father could rant on.

"Exhausted? I don't know if this word is strong enough."

"Oh, so you won't come on Saturday?"

"Saturday? Oh! Saturday. The ball." Bud sighed. "Harriet's mother insists that we go at least an hour or two. She says Harriet needs a break. I'm just not sure if it's going to be that much fun."

Bud thought of the big Military-Summer-Ball next Saturday - a lot of raising money for charity, small talk and a great opportunity to watch other people dance - no, definitely not his favorite free time activity. He sighed once more and looked at the ceiling for help.

"And on top of that I think Harriet's still a little bit mad at me because of the name."

"Well, you should have seen that coming," Coates commented dryly. "Maybe it's time you'll make it up to her somehow."

Bud thought about that like the idea had never come across his mind.

"But how?" he asked finally.

"Surprise her? But it has to be something really special and unexpected. And if I may give you some advice: A bunch of flowers will simply not do this time."

"A surprise." Bud turned and headed for the lift. "And special and unexpected. What on earth could that be?"

* * *

**- A gym, one hour later**

"Any other questions, Lieutenant?"

"Huh?" Bud shook his head and tore his gaze away from a bulky man lifting weights in a futuristic frame. Gathering his thoughts he refocused on the woman in front of him. Now she reminded him even more of a Klingon lady in bad mood: ready to hit somebody. She was fitting perfectly into this big room filled with people working their bodies in shape.

"Uhm, no, Mrs. DiSaggio. That's all for the moment. Thank you for your time," he managed to get out.

"Fine. I hope the bastard is going to rot in jail!" the woman snapped and turned away.

Bud fled to the door and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as it closed behind him. How his rather small and tiny client had ended up being married to such a fierce woman was beyond him. He was happy to be in the safety of the stairway again.

He was about to walk down the stairs when first the sound of an opening door on the floor above and then the voices of a man and a woman echoed in the concrete walls.

"... no, really, I like it. You'll get standing ovations you'll see."

Bud looked up. Didn't he know that voice?

"I don't know. You don't think it's overdone? Considering..."

"Karen it's perfect." It was Clayton Webb's voice, Bud was sure about it. "Just be careful with that little gesture, you know this one. You don't want Frank to look gay."

The woman laughed. "You miss it, admit it, Clayton!"

"Miss what?"

"Working as a dancing instructor. Believe me, you're born for it."

Bud froze. 'Dancing instructor? Clayton Webb?'

"Please, Karen," Webb sounded suddenly tired, "Don't bring that up again. That's water under the bridge and it has been for a long time."

"Well, give me a call when you change your mind. Any help is appreciated. Now, tell Porter a big thank you. She'll get the key back after the weekend."

"No need to hurry. She's glad to help. Bye, Karen."

"Bye, Clayton."

The sound of a heavy door falling shut filled the stairway. Webb walked carefully down the steps, took the turn at the landing and stopped short because he found Bud Roberts staring at him with eyes big as saucers.

"Bud?"

"Dancing instructor?" Bud choked out.

"Oh, damn," Webb muttered under his breath. He looked up to the floor he just came from and back down on the startled Lieutenant. "How much did you hear?"

"You've worked as a dancing instructor?" Bud repeated once more and giggled.

"I think that's none of your business." Webb proceeded his way down the stairs. He felt his hands trembling again. 'Damn it, not now!'

"A dancing instructor?" Bud was laughing hard now.

"Cut it, Bud. You sound like a parrot," Webb snapped irritated. He almost missed the last step but caught himself. Pressing his lips together tightly he hurried outside and started walking away.

Bud noticed the stumble and the slight tremble in his hands and quickly grew serious. Webb seemed to be truly hurt and that was something Bud hadn't intended to do. He suddenly remembered the months of his own recovery. He had been very sensitive to any comments about his past or his abilities even when it was meant to be nice. He'd just always gotten it the wrong way.

"Mister Webb!" He followed the other man. "Mister Webb, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to ... It wasn't meant that way."

"Forget it, Roberts. Just forget it." Webb kept walking.

"That's the wrong way to deal with it."

"What?" Webb turned around in his surprise. Bud slowed down and took a deep breath.

"I did that a lot. After I - well, lost my leg. Whenever somebody laughed I thought he was laughing at me. Only it wasn't like that. But you're, well, a little bit thin-skinned after ... after..." Bud got stuck and trailed off.

Webb raised his brows. "Are you trying to counsel me?"

"Well, no, not directly, I mean: No! But maybe that's something we have in common." Bud stumbled over his words. Again it sounded completely different than what he had wanted to say.

"In common? We?" Webb shook his head and was about to turn away again.

"The friends are the hardest part."

Webb stopped.

"They never want to hurt you but somehow they always do. It's easier to deal with strangers. They haven't known you before." Bud gulped. It dawned on him that he had stuck out his neck a little bit far. Never before he had spoken to Clayton Webb like this. "I - I just wanted to tell you I understand. I'm sorry if I overstepped the line ..."

Webb sighed. He couldn't help feeling pity for the squirming Lieutenant. And there was quite some truth in his words. Friends were the hardest part - though he would never consider Roberts as a friend. Strange thought.

"Don't be and you haven't. Just close the subject now, all right?"

"Of course." Bud was more than ready to agree. He looked around and suddenly noticed they were standing in front of the next Metro Rail station.

"Oh, still medical order not to drive?" As soon as the words were out he wanted to bite his tongue. Speaking of out of the line.

Webb grimaced. "Drop it, Roberts!" He aimed for the stairs.

"Mister Webb?"

"What now?"

"I ... I've got the car over there. Can I give you a lift?"

Webb hesitated. He wanted to say no but on the other hand he hated the Metro at the moment. In fact he had discovered to have a general problem with rooms where he wasn't able to get out anytime he wanted to.

"It's no problem. Really."

"No more counseling, Bud," Webb warned.

"I promise."

"Then thanks for the offer."

They walked over to the car and got in. Bud pulled out into the traffic. After driving a few minutes in rather uncomfortable silence he couldn't hold back any more.

"I have to say ... I somewhat envy your dance experience."

Webb's response was a muffled grunt.

"I mean, I never attended a single dancing lesson. Harriet did and I know she enjoys dancing very much - she even tried to show me some patterns. I guess I blocked her too good ... after a while she stopped talking about it." Bud went silent. "And now it is too late to learn it anyway," he added somewhat sadly.

Webb said nothing.

"And now we have to go to the ball next Saturday - the Military-Summer- Ball, you know, the money they'll get for the cards will be donated to charities and -"

"I know that," Webb interrupted, "Mac told me all about it when she asked me to go there a few weeks ago."

Though he loved dancing he wasn't exactly looking forward to the ball. Firstly he still had problems to hold his balance sometimes and secondly it wasn't very easy to talk with Mac at the moment. Not after the half-fight they had had last Monday.

"Oh. Well, anyway I already know there's nothing else I can do than standing around and watching other man dance with Harriet - if she doesn't decline because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings..."

"For heavens sake, then dance with her and stop complaining," Webb almost erupted. "If I can manage to dance with nerve damage I'm sure you can do a simple Foxtrot too."

Bud opened his mouth and shut it again as a crazy idea crossed his mind. He tried to push it down - totally ridiculous, what was he thinking - but... He glanced over to the passenger seat.

"You ... you really think that's possible with one leg?"

Webb shrugged. "In a simple form why not? You don't have to twist your ankles too much, the speed is usually low and it's not like you're trying to attend a competition."

'Something really special and unexpected.' Coates words popped back into Bud's thoughts. He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"And this ... this Foxtrot is easy to learn?"

"Shouldn't be a problem, even for you." Webb's voice contained a hint of his old sarcasm.

Bud considered it again. It was crazy. But it was also... He took his courage in both hands and decided to go for it.

"You - uhm - you've really worked as a dancing instructor, Mister Webb?"

"In college, Bud! In college! There, you're satisf-" Webb suddenly noticed the wall he had just backed himself against. His head snapped around, an expression near to panic in his eyes.

"Whoa, stop here, Bud! If you're thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking the answer is no! No way!"

"You've said it's easy to learn."

"But I've never said I'll teach you to do it! Take lessons!"

"The ball is next Saturday."

"I know when the damned ball is!"

Bud was silence for a few heartbeats before speaking again quietly. "It would mean a lot to Harriet."

"Bud..." Webb trailed off. Bud had just hit his soft spot perfectly and that most probably without knowing it. "You and me ... that's just not a good idea, Bud."

"Why?"

The last second Webb swallowed the harsh 'because' he had on the tip of his tongue. "Well, first of all you'd have to follow my orders," he said instead.

"No problem."

Webb coughed. "That would be the first time!"

"Mister Webb, I know, maybe I'm asking a lot, but Harriet is still so mad at me because of Jimmy's name and he isn't sleeping well and she's so exhausted and she went through so much the last year, more than the last year and I want to surprise her and I know she'll never expect something like that and Coates said to think of something special and I'll keep it a secret, I swear, I won't tell anybody and if there's a chance -"

"Watch out, it's red! RED!" Webb screamed at the top of his lungs.

Bud slammed on the brakes. Thanks to the ABS the car stopped hard on the line but nevertheless a horn bleared.

For some seconds they were simply sitting and trying to catch their breath.

"All right," Webb finally managed to get out, "You've convinced me it's important to you."

Bud turned to face Webb and looked pleadingly. Confronted with this Webb suddenly felt the urged need to jump off the car and run for his life.

"Bud...," he tried with little hope. He got no answer, just Bud's eyebrows rose a little bit higher adding more weight to his expression.

Webb groaned helplessly and pinched the bridge of his nose.


	3. More complications

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- JAG headquarters, Friday morning**

Colonel Sarah Mackenzie sat at her desk in her office, the door firmly shut and all blinds closed. She stared at the open file in front of her without seeing it, as little as she noticed her nervous fiddling with the pen in her hand.

Why had life to be so complicated? Was this a cosmic joke at her cost? First this terrible mission in Paraguay. All right, she'd stepped into it with her eyes wide open and she got out of it with barely a scratch - at least physically. The rest was ... more complicated. Like her 'relationship' with Harm. He had come to save her and she would be forever grateful for it ... but immediately after that they had continued exactly where they had stopped: At pushing each others buttons. Hard.

The same old routine again ... and the same pain. And in the end she had given in and admitted to herself that her greatest wish would probably never come true. Maybe it was naïve and typical female to believe they would be able to remain friends after all that had happened. But she had truly believed their friendship had meant something to him too. That they had learned to respect and know each other over the past years ... just not enough to take the next step.

And then her flyboy had walked off and joined the CIA. Her Harm. Her the- truth-and-only-the-truth Harm. Her 'Webb, how can you even think about sacrificing these people for the greater good' Harm. Maybe she had never known him at all.

And it was scaring her to death.

If she hadn't been able to figure Harm out in these - what? Seven years, eight years of working together ... how should she be able to figure out a man who kept secrets for a living?

Clayton had told her he needed her. This man she'd never considered to have any feelings for her - or for anybody else - had suddenly opened up and put his heart in her hands. No, stop, that wasn't true. Well, yes, he had opened up and had put his heart in her hands. But she had never considered him to have no feelings at all. At least not after she had gotten to know him better over the years, the first encounters hadn't been exactly promising though. But eventually she had discovered a heart under those three-piece-suits. Years ago she had even called him loveable. When she had thought he had been killed. Somehow she always needed a constellation like this to look behind his annoying shell of arrogance. Or to be allowed to look behind it.

Maybe that was the problem now. Looking back it seemed to her that he had tried to open up completely. That he had tried to trust her, to talk to her. And then suddenly it was forbidden ground again. Like running into a wall. She was still wondering what had changed everything.

All she had wanted had been to know him better before trying to deepen ... whatever it might be between the two of them. And there was something, she just wasn't sure what. She was willing to find out but... it couldn't be wrong to take it slow. She needed to know him, to trust him. But somehow they weren't able to talk without stumbling over something 'classified'. It was hard enough to deal with his job ... but now she had the certain feeling he was holding back his personal life too. And that frustrated and annoyed her because she simply didn't understand why!

Well, their half-fight on Monday hadn't helped one bit. All right, accusing him of not even trying to open up had been rather harsh... But for heavens sake, it had been a simple and in her opinion reasonable question. She had tried to talk, damn it! And that comment about 'hormone swings' in return had definitely been out of the line. Men! Sometimes she just wanted to scream...

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts abruptly. Mac jumped slightly and dropped the pen in surprise. The knock was repeated.

"Ah, yes?"

The door opened and Harriet poked her head in. "Ma'am? May I come in?"

"Harriet! Of course." Mac got up. She caught a glimpse of Bud, surrounded by half the staff, holding a wailing bundle in his arms as Harriet slipped through the door and closed it behind her. "Oh, you've brought Jimmy. I haven't heard you coming."

"Ma'am," Harriet clasped her hands tightly together, "Can I ... can I talk with you?" She looked pale and Mac was instantly concerned. Getting not enough sleep was clearly eating away at her strength.

"Harriet, you don't even have to ask-"

"He's lying to me!" Harriet blurted out and burst into tears. Mac just stood a moment with her mouth open, feeling a little bit overwhelmed. Then she hurried around her desk and directed Harriet to one of the visitor seats.

"Sit down. Harriet! Sit down. Hush, it's all right. Everything will be all right."

"It isn't!" Harriet sobbed almost hysterical. "He lied. Why did he lie? Why?"

"Shh, Harriet." Mac patted her shoulder. "Easy. Wait, here -" She ran for her purse and grabbed some handkerchiefs. "Take these. You have to calm down, please! Who lied?"

"Bud!" Harriet forced out between sobs. She dabbed her eyes. Mac felt again at a loss. This was going to be difficult. Finally she crouched down and laid her fingers on Harriet's hands. Maybe the other woman would calm down when she had the opportunity to talk about her problems.

"Harriet, please. Come on, breath. In - and out. In - and out." Mac gestured then she realized she was breathing together with Harriet and felt slightly embarrassed. But it worked, Harriet really stopped crying. "Talk to me, Harriet. What has happened?"

"J-J-Jimmy was crying all day yesterday, the doctor's said it's his stomach and with the medicine it should be better soon but it's still so hard to console him and sometimes driving around in the car is the only possibility," Harriet took another deep breath, "AJ was with a friend and his mother and Bud had phoned earlier to tell me that he had to work late and would be in the library but he wasn't because when I put Jimmy in the car and drove around -" She interrupted herself to blow her nose, "When I was driving around I came through this street. I swear I didn't even know where I was any more, I was just so glad Jimmy had fallen asleep finally. And then - then -" Her eyes looked suspiciously watery.

"And?" Mac raised her brows.

"And then I saw Bud." Harriet was clenching the handkerchief in her fist. "Only it wasn't near the library at all. He was entering a gym!"

"A gym?" Mac felt the need to touch Harriet's forehead and search for signs of a fever. It was obvious that she was too exhausted to think clearly. "There's nothing bad in going to a gym, Harriet. Maybe he wanted to do some exercises..."

"No, no, you don't understand," Harriet shook her head desperately. "You haven't seen the people going in there. Bud would never go into a gym like this to work out!"

"Have you tried to talk to Bud about it?" Mac patted Harriet's hands and prayed the other woman wouldn't start crying again. "Harriet, please! Just tell me."

"I - I tried. As soon as Bud came home finally. But he immediately started to talk about work and what he did at the library and then ... then he said he'll have to go again today!"

Mac opened her mouth but Harriet wasn't finished yet.

"And there's something else. He's ... he's humming!"

"Humming."

"Yes! But only when he thinks I can't hear it. As soon as he sees me he stops."

Mac just looked.

"Bud never hums!" Harriet was even more upset because the Colonel didn't seem to understand how important it was.

"Harriet," Mac looked deep into her eyes. "I really don't think it's as bad as you think it is right now. And I know -" She raised her voice before Harriet could interrupt her, "I know what you have seen and it is strange that he isn't telling you the truth but maybe there's a very simple explanation for all this. I'm going to talk to him."

"Don't tell him I saw him!" Harriet jumped to her feet.

"There's no reason why I shouldn't..."

"No! Please! Maybe he'll think I was following him and is getting mad at me but I wasn't, it was all because of Jimmy and accidentally and -"

"Harriet, stop it now!" Mac forced her friend back down on the chair. There was no reasoning with the exhausted woman. "All right, I will not tell him, I promise. Trust me, Harriet. This misunderstanding will be cleared up soon."

"You really think so, Ma'am?"

"I have no doubts about it." Mac smiled encouragingly. "So, now we'll see what we can do about your red eyes and then I want to hold Jimmy for a while - o.k.? Don't worry, Harriet."

Harriet didn't seem to be entirely convinced but ready to go with Mac's suggestion for now. Mac kept the smile plastered on her face, while inwardly shaking her head. 'My, my, the joys of parenthood. Please, God, let her get a good sleep for a couple of hours soon. And I've thought I've got problems.'

* * *

**- JAG headquarters, later that morning**

Mac flipped through an alibi file and strolled casually nearer towards Bud's office. Peering through the glass she nodded satisfied - he was alone and working at his desk. Stacks of files, piled up to dangerous heights, covered most of the tabletop. Mac walked through the door and nearly stumbled. Sure enough - he was humming. Well, as good as an opening as anything else.

"That's a nice tune, Bud."

Bud jumped in his seat. His movement caused one of the folders to lose its insecure balance and sail to the floor.

"Oh." Mac crouched down to pick it up.

Bud tried to gather his thoughts. "Tune? W-what tune, Ma'am?" Even to him it sounded lame and awful defensive. And he had promised to tell no one. He was definitely in big trouble.

"The tune you were humming." Mac, still crouching low, reached up to put the file back on his desk. "I think I know it but I can't come up with the title... No, wait ... I think I've danced to it once - Bud!"

Mac was showered with files tumbling down on her because Bud practically leapt to his feet, rocking the desk hard as he did. Paper scattered all over the floor.

"Ups," Bud croaked out. He frantically searched for an escape route. The Colonel was able to wring information out of a stone if she was in the right mood - he had been on the receiving end of that before, thank you very much. Just to think of her interrogation tactics brought sweat on his forehead. "I - I wasn't humming, Ma'am."

"Sure you were." Mac tried to gather up the contents of the different folders without increasing the mess any further. She was getting a headache.

Bud spied one of the remaining files on his desk and grabbed it. There - a way out! "I'm sorry, Colonel, the - the DiSaggio case." He stumbled around his desk, fished for a pen and drove the few files Mac had just picked up right back down on her.

"Bud!" Mac shielded her head with her arm.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. But I've got to go, I'm late already." He aimed for the door. "Mantoni is waiting."

"But, Bud..." Mac rescued her fingers before he could step on them in his haste. "Mantoni will not be back..." She turned around on her knees, "... until tomorrow." But she was finishing her sentence to an empty office.

'What did just happen here?' Mac needed some seconds to recover before she was able to shut her mouth and stagger to her feet. Shaking her head at the mess on the floor she brushed her uniform down and headed for the door. Outside she nearly ran into her CO. Chegwidden was staring to the entrance but turned when he sensed her behind his back.

"Colonel! What has gotten into Lieutenant Roberts? He stormed out as if he was followed by a horde of cannibals!"

"I don't know, Sir." Mac was too busy with her own thoughts to pay much attention. She threw her hands up. "But strange things are going on in this office."

Incredulously Chegwidden watched her sail past him and followed her retreating back with his eyes until her door closed with a thud. Then his gaze swept through the bullpen before he crossed his arms and snorted.

"And what's new about that?"


	4. Discoveries

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Inside a car, Friday evening**

'Ridiculous, this is so ridiculous!' The sentence went on and on in Mac's head. She couldn't believe it. How did she get herself into this situation? For heaven's sake, she was sitting here in the car of her neighbor, wearing civvies and was observing a gym! She bumped her head against the steering wheel. How did Harriet ever persuade her to do this? How did- She remembered the not-so-good phone call around noon and sighed. 'Oh, well, never mind.'

The door on the passenger side was jerked open and Mac lifted her head. Harriet maneuvered carefully inside, settled Jimmy's seat in her lap and shut the door again. Her face was slightly flushed.

"Sorry, Ma'am, I'm late," she whispered out of breath, "But Jimmy slept all afternoon and somehow I fell asleep too."

"So the medicine is working?" Mac gave her friend a quick once over. Yes, Harriet looked definitely better than this morning. Still exhausted but no longer so terribly pale. And she looked definitely calmer too.

"I really hope so. This is heaven!" Harriet smiled down at her son, rocking him gently. Mac felt her own lips curl up at this sight. Harriet glanced at her. "I asked the mother of AJ's friend to take care of him again. For the boys it couldn't be better." She paused and her gaze wandered outside. Her face suddenly darkened. "Have you ... have you seen anything yet?"

Mac sighed. "No, no Bud so far. Harriet, do you really think this is such a good idea?"

The petite blonde pressed her lips together. "He lied to me. And he's still lying to me. I have a right to know why."

"Maybe asking is the better way to find out."

"Are you always asking what you want to know? And do you always get an answer to your questions?" Harriet knew she sounded stubborn.

Mac looked away. That was a good point, especially now with Clayton. She muttered her words more to herself. "Asking - most of the time. Getting an answer..."

It was Harriet's turn to consider her closely. She hesitated but then decided to go a step further. "Difficulties with Mister Webb?" she asked softly.

Mac didn't answer. She kept looking out of the window. Difficulties? She wasn't sure if it wasn't more. If it wasn't something deeper.

"Mister Webb is not an easy man to understand." Harriet spoke to her son but her words were directed at the woman beside her.

"Sometimes I don't think I'll ever understand him at all," admitted Mac after some minutes of silence. "It seems the only time we are close is when one of us is in danger. But this isn't enough to build a relationship on. Maybe - maybe we have nothing in common."

Harriet looked at her. For years she had watched Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie dance around each other. For years she hadn't known Mister Webb at all. Then the two people who had seemed to be so close just walked away from each other. And she had learned more about Mister Webb than anyone else at JAG ever did.

"Maybe we have only so much in common with another person as we are willing to find out."

Mac groaned and hit the steering wheel with her fist. "To find out. Do you know how frustrating it is, trying to find out anything about Clayton Webb? It's not only his job! He's blocking any question about himself! Last Monday, for example. All I was asking was if he had ever considered having children. And what did I get in return? A sarcastic comment!"

Too occupied with her own thoughts Mac missed Harriet cringe. She knew exactly why it had been the wrong question. But had she the right to tell her? If Webb wasn't ready to share this part of his life - had she the right to decide for him? On the other hand, the Colonel was her friend. And she was clearly frustrated and on the brink of ending this relationship before it could even start... Maybe a roundabout way would do.

"I never told Bud that I had been pregnant before I met him." She gulped. "You would think it's something you should tell your husband. But somehow I never ... found the right moment."

"That's something different, Harriet. I can understand why you didn't want to think about it. Bud understood too." Mac rested a reassuring hand on Harriet's arm. She had quite some experience with ... not wanting to think about something. Considering Chris...

"All I want to say is that there are sometimes things which ... hurt too much to share them when ... the time isn't right."

"Well, I really don't think -" Mac interrupted herself and eyed her friend suspiciously. And what she saw in Harriet's face let her heart skip. "Harriet ... you know something."

"Ma'am -" Oh, she had known it was a bad idea. "Ask Mister Webb."

"What is it, Harriet? What is it he told you and not me?" There was anger and pain in her voice, Mac couldn't help it.

Harriet shook her head. "Ask Mister Webb," she repeated.

"What -"

"Mac, please! I - I can't. It wouldn't be right."

Mac sat back in her seat. It happened seldom that Harriet used her first name. But still she felt this disturbing sting of jealousy. She looked down at her hands and clenched them into fists to fight this emotion.

"Ma'am?" Harriet had a quite funny expression on her face. Mac followed her gaze and gasped. A familiar figure was entering the building.

"Clay?" she muttered stunned. She had never thought he would go into a facility like this. It wasn't his level. Then a new thought hit her. She looked at Harriet and saw the same question in her eyes.

"You - you don't think Mister Webb has talked Buddy into 'doing him a favor'?" Harriet's voice trembled.

"If he did he'll wish soon he never had!" Mac growled dangerously low. She gritted her teeth. Playing this game with her or Harm had been acceptable. But bringing Bud in such a situation was absolutely inexcusable. The man had a family! And just to think of what Harriet went through since yesterday... She reached for the door handle.

"Ma'am!" Harriet's fingers dug into her arm.

Bud was hurrying along the pavement, paused in front of the house and carefully looked around. Involuntarily both women slid deeper in their seats. Bud finished checking his surroundings and disappeared through the door.

Mac and Harriet scrambled up until they were sitting upright again. They exchanged a look. Their suspicion seemed to be true. There was something going on.

"Harriet, you'll stay here. Don't argue! I'll handle this." Mac nailed the younger woman with a stern glare and waited until she received a hesitant nod. Then she climbed out of the car, looked both ways and crossed the street. Harriet watched her go and bit her lower lip, rocking her son softly. An expression of worry on her face.

* * *

**- Inside the building, first floor**

Taking a deep breath Mac prepared herself to open the door. On the short way up the stairs - the first floor wasn't on ground level but about six stairs up - she had worked herself into a rage. How could he dare pulling Bud into his dirty little spy-games? How could he dare risking his life? Too many of his operations had gone south already... He knew exactly through how much Bud and Harriet had been in the last years! And damn it, why hadn't he asked her!

Mac pushed the heavy iron door open and stormed inside the gym. Where she immediately slowed down and looked around. Wow, crowded was no expression. If it was just a set-up it was really well done. She started to circle the room and searched for a face she knew.

"Hello, sweetie, you're new here? I don't think I've seen you around before."

The voice behind her back brought she to a sudden stop. Sweetie? Mac spun around, ready to spat out a sharp reply... She looked up, then looked up a little bit more...

'Oh my God - Hulk himself!'

* * *

**- Outside, in the car**

Harriet was shifting uncomfortably in the seat. The Colonel seemed to be gone an awfully long time. She caressed Jimmy's cheek. The boy slept so peacefully now, he didn't seem to be the same child. Well, for sure she wasn't complaining! Sleeping three hours in a row this afternoon had been heavenly.

Again she took a worried look at the building. What was going on there? All kind of possibilities tumbled through her head. She saw the Colonel fighting again Russian Agents, crouching with Buddy in the cover of a corner to avoid flying bullets ... or chewing Mister Webb out, probably including not only the threat of physical harm. Oh, what would the Admiral say?

Harriet bit her fingernails and suddenly wasn't able to stand it any more. She reached over to the driver's side, pulled out the key and flung her door open. After locking the car properly she lifted Jimmy's seat higher on her hip and hurried across the street.

* * *

**- Inside the building, first floor**

"No, Alan, thank you again but I don't think it's the right thing for me. No, really. Yes, it was really nice to meet you. Bye, Alan. No, I can't stay for a drink. Thanks for showing me around. Bye, Alan. Yes ... No ... Bye."

Mac slumped against the wall in the stairway and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God, the heavy door was closed finally. Hulk had been ... rather strenuous. Friendly, but ... strenuous.

"Ma'am? Did you find him?" The whisper nearly caused Mac to jump out of her skin.

"Jesus, Harriet!" She pressed a hand against her pounding heart. "I told you to wait in the car!"

"He's my husband."

That argument settled any further discussion before it could start at all. Mac sighed deeply and motioned the younger woman to follow her upstairs. They looked at the tasteful sign beside the door then at each other. Both shook their head but anyway, Mac reached for the handle with a shrug. Carefully she poked her head inside then opened the door completely and held it for Harriet.

They stepped into a not very big but nicely furnished foyer. A small bar was built along the wall across from the entrance and to both sides were doors with small windows. The soft pastel colors of the walls were welcoming and each smooth surface was polished and caught the dimmed electrical light. Somewhere was playing music.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Both women jumped because of the unexpected voice.

"Oh, sorry, I haven't meant to scare you." The man was in his late fifties or early sixties, with dark grey hair and lively blue eyes. He had the fluid and graceful movements of an athlete - or of a dancer. His smile was professional but also honest.

"I'm Frank Polston, my wife and I own this place." His gaze fell on Jimmy. "Oh, usually we don't have such young visitors. My, what a little darling and sleeping so peacefully. Boy or girl?"

"B-Boy, my little Jimmy," Harriet stuttered after a second. The man smiled even wider.

"We've got three but all girls. Now, this is your first visit here? Maybe you want to start practicing again after your pregnancy? Together with your friends?"

"Ah, yes, so to say," Mac cut in, "We're looking around for the best ... place to go."

"Well, that's always a good thing to do. As you see, we've got plenty of rooms here. The 'big ballroom' over there and four smaller rooms on the other side." Frank pointed at the doors and walked over to the bar while talking. "The neighborhood has changed a bit since we've established our dancing school but usually we get along quite well. What level are you?"

Mac and Harriet exchanged a look.

"Ah - beginners..."

"Middle I'd say..."

Again they looked at each other. Frank chuckled. But before he could say something the door of what he had called the big ballroom opened. A woman with silver hair took a step outside and smiled.

"Excuse me. Frank? I need a demonstration object for the Vienna Waltz. Could you come as soon as you're done with our guests?"

"Sure, Karen." The man turned back to Mac and Harriet. "My wife, Karen. You'll find us in most of the lessons except for some special dances with part-time employees. The timetable and prices are all in this flyer. Why don't you have a look around now and see if you like it here. For any further questions I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Yes, thank you, that's a good idea." Mac took the flyer. "We'll just look around a bit."

With a last nod Frank left them and entered the 'big ballroom'. Mac and Harriet followed him to the door and peered inside. Surrounded by a group of teenagers the couple did a short demonstration of the Vienna Waltz.

"They're good!" whispered Harriet. She sighed wistfully. The couple had stopped and the woman, Karen, was talking fast, bringing broad grins on the faces of the teens.

Mac stepped back and turned away. "A nice place sure enough but I don't think we'll find our men here. Let's have a short look around and then try the upper floor."

They crossed the foyer. The first three rooms were empty so they aimed for the fourth. Just as they were about to take the last steps the door handle moved down, the door was jerked open a few inches and Bud's head appeared in the small window.

"... some ice or an ice pack? Or maybe a wet towel?"

Mac and Harriet stood rigid. Bud was looking in the other direction and hadn't seen them yet but there was no way to get away without drawing his attention to them. Besides, they were too shocked to move anyway.

Inside was muffled response.

"No? Really? But maybe a wet towel would -"

"Oh, Bud, please! Just shut up!" The angry groan was unmistakably Webb's voice. "And close the damned door!"

Bud obeyed the order and stepped away without turning around. The women dared to breathe again. After a second they moved carefully to the door- window and gazed inside.

The room wasn't big but the mirror wall on the right side created the impression of space. Bud was standing in the middle of the polished floor, gesturing with his hands and obviously worried. The object of his worry was standing on one foot, bracing himself against the wall with one hand and cupping his left foot in his other. Webb's face was hidden behind his arm.

Mac reached out and managed to open the door a tiny bit without making a sound. Bud was in the middle of an apology.

"... and I wanted to start with the left foot, you said to start with the left foot, and I know I wanted to start with it..."

"Bud."

"... but somehow it turned out to be the right one and I realized it too late and..."

"Bud!"

"... I couldn't stop and I'm so sorry..."

"Goddamn Bud, stop ranting!"

Bud's mouth snapped shut. Webb drew a deep breath. He shook his head and rubbed his foot gently. "With that habit it's a miracle that you're still alive and died neither for lack of oxygen nor because someone's shot you!"

But his anger was fading already. Unfortunately not the pain. He sighed. "Look, Bud. I told you not to worry about stepping on my feet. To tell the truth, that's what I'm here for. You better not step on Karen's foot when I ask her to dance with you again. She's got a show this weekend and better be intact or Frank will have us both for breakfast." Webb gingerly put his foot down and grimaced. "And you better not step on Harriet's foot tomorrow or your little surprise will backfire badly." He winced at the first steps. "So as long as you're just practicing on my feet don't worry about it. But you could be ... less enthusiastic about doing it!"

Bud was wise enough to swallow any reply he might have had. Instead he watched with a crushed expression as the other man limped carefully back and forth. Webb caught a look on his face and groaned, rubbing his temples.

"And stop looking like that for heaven's sake!" He reined his temper in. Somehow Bud always had this effect on him: Either to feel the need to console him or to blow up because he was feeling the need to console him. "What has gotten into you anyway? You did much better yesterday, so pull yourself together and try to concentrate."

Bud grimaced. Concentrate with a suspicious Colonel Mackenzie breathing down his neck? He had barley managed to avoid her for the rest of the day. But maybe it was better not to mention this towards his reluctant teacher. Webb hadn't said much but it seemed their relationship was a bit difficult at the moment. Better not add fuel to the fire.

Webb was walking better meanwhile. He paused at the CD player and chose another piece of music. After testing his foot again he turned to the room.

"All right, come here. We don't have all day."

Dutifully Bud walked over and was stopped at arms length. Webb raised a brow.

"And you start with...?"

Bud closed his eyes and rattled off. "Two steps forward, side-step to the left, two steps backwards, side-step, two steps forward and so on. I'll swing a little in the side-steps so we're moving on a zigzag line. I'll -"

"I've meant with which foot." Webb sighed.

"Oh." Bud looked embarrassed. "Left."

"Fine. And left is..." Webb tilted his head. Bud blushed and pointed.

"Very good. Now, position." Webb frowned. "I don't think my shoulder blade is that low."

Bud's right hand shot up from the middle of his back to its correct position. Webb nodded.

"Good. Listen to the music. I'll count you in one last time." He paused a second and picked up the pace. "Five - six; five, six, seven, eight! Yes, like that. Open a little bit more in the side-steps. Good. Remember the right-hand-turn? Two steps forward and then. Ready? Now. Not that bad, just more the next time. No, no, continue, don't stop! There, you've felt how I've corrected our direction? That's your part on the dance floor. O.k., again - right-hand-turn... Better, Bud. Much better!"

Mac used both hands to close the door quietly. For a heartbeat the two women were just staring at each other, both with tears shining in their eyes. Then they silently walked out of the dancing school and down the stairs.


	5. The ball

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Ladies' room, Military-Summer-Ball, Saturday evening**

"You think he'll ever ask me?" Harriet sounded somewhat disappointed. Mac dried her hands with a paper towel and smiled.

"Patience, Harriet. I'm sure he will."

Harriet wasn't satisfied. "We've told mother we'll be back between nine and ten. We're running out of time."

Mac threw the paper away and looked into the mirror. Then she moved to the side and immediately the next woman took her place. The Military-Summer- Ball was a success, no doubt about it. Not only the wide ballroom and the smaller rooms connected to it were crowded but the restrooms too now. Well, as long as the speeches were over and the buffet opened she wouldn't mind. And, thank God, due to the event only male officers were ordered to wear uniforms, the women were allowed to attend in much more eye-catching outfits.

"He will, Harriet. Besides, the real dancing has just started." She grinned. "And considering those glares Clayton's shot in his direction whenever the music has changed into a Foxtrot, he's probably getting a huge encouragement at the moment."

Harriet giggled.

* * *

**- The ballroom, almost the same time**

"For heaven's sake, Bud! Ask her!" Webb bent over the empty chair to his left while Chegwidden and his fiancée argued how many musicians they'd need for their wedding.

Bud gulped nervously. He had no look for the colorful mixture of gala uniforms, tuxedos and evening gowns creating the impression of a Cinderella- ball late at night. The bright electrical light intensified this even more because heavy curtains in front of the windows blocked the last evening sunlight.

"And - and if she can't?"

Webb frowned. "Can't what? Wait a minute! You've said she can dance!" His voice rose a little. With a dangerous growl.

"Yes," Bud hissed back, "But what if she can't follow my lead? Maybe she doesn't know the patterns you've shown me?"

Webb was about to give a sharp reply but swallowed it down when he saw Mac and Harriet return from the ladies' room. Just this moment the music changed into a Foxtrot again. Webb glanced at Bud who was literally frozen in his chair, a classical deer-caught-in-headlight look in his eyes, and got up, cursing under his breath.

"Excuse me, Mac. Harriet, would you like to dance with me?" Ignoring the startled Mac he practically dragged Harriet to the dance floor. Not only Bud but also a stunned Chegwidden, Meredith and Sturgis followed them with their eyes.

A not less startled Harriet found herself suddenly in a firm but expert grip and moving across the polished parquet. Despite her surprise she soon enjoyed dancing with such a good partner. It had been a long time since she had had this pleasure. Webb's lead was gentle but clear and unmistakable as he guided her quickly through the main patterns of the Foxtrot.

"You're really as good a dancer as it looked like when you -" She stopped herself the last second. "- danced with the Colonel."

"Thank you, Harriet. You're quite a good dancer yourself."

They moved in silence again. Webb thought about Mac. She had warned him that she wasn't big in ballroom dancing but even if she didn't know that much patterns, it had been wonderful to dance with her. Of course just the act of holding her in his arms was worth anything but she also had a lot of potential to go with. He couldn't help thinking of the fun it would be to teach her more. He sighed absent-mindedly. They were on speaking terms again but the tension of Monday was still hanging between them.

"She deserves to know." Harriet's voice shook him out of his thoughts. He almost missed a step and was surprised enough to give up the correct look- to-the-left position of his head and stare at her profile. She glanced up into his eyes and then looked over his shoulder again. "If you really want this ... don't lock her out."

His hand tightened a bit. It took almost a full circle around the dance floor until she realized that he would never give an answer. But she wasn't ready to drop the topic. Not now. For the sake of both of them.

"She told me about Monday. About her question. And your answer. She deserves better than that." The Foxtrot ended and Webb released her out of his arms. "I haven't said anything. And she deserves better than that too."

Webb held her gaze then looked away. "I know that."

"To know is sometimes not enough."

Webb met her eyes again. And for the second time in her life she saw this small ironic smile directed at himself.

"Yes, Ma'am," he stated in a gently mocking tone. He listened for a moment. "You're up to a Vienna Waltz?"

She smiled and took position, accepting his peace offering in the same silent manner it had been given. "Of course, Mister Webb."

Webb had to admit that not only Harriet was out of breath as they walked back to the table. They had added a Cha-Cha-Cha to the Vienna Waltz and both of them had enjoyed every second of it. He held her chair and took the opportunity to bring his lips to Bud's ear.

"She knows!" His hiss didn't seem to ease Bud's tension.

But Webb was lost too deep in his own thoughts to spend much time or pity on the Lieutenant. Harriet's words had hit a nerve. Unsure of what to do he avoided Mac's eyes and reached for his glass instead, taking his time to sip at the water. His gaze swept through the room ... and his hand stopped in midair.

Mac more felt than saw his body tense. An expression she wasn't able to interpret flickered over his face. The next second he nodded, smiled and lifted the glass in a sort of salute. Frowning she craned her neck and followed his gaze. Her frown deepened when she saw a tall woman in a wonderful shoulder-free dress answer his smile. Short blond hair at the brink of brown framed a nice but not extraordinary beautiful face. Then the blue eyes of the woman met for a second Mac's brown ones and her smile, again addressed to Webb, grew brighter before she continued on her way through the tables.

Looking back at Webb Mac opened her mouth but before she was able to ask he jumped and searched with his free hand in his jacket. Pulling out a vibrating cell phone he glanced at the display and sighed.

"Excuse me. Just a second."

Mac rolled her eyes but said nothing as he got up and walked to a quiet corner. Then it was her turn to sigh. Seeing him and Harriet dance together had had ... a strange effect on her. She couldn't be jealous, now could she? No. Impossible. But there was this disturbing feeling that Harriet was a much better dancing partner for him than she was. And what was more, seeing them dance together had reminded her of the talk she had had with Harriet in the car... And the secret she and Webb seemed to share.

Again she looked at him. He was talking quickly, nodding from time to time and once or twice shaking his head. Suddenly he looked up and made subtle pushing gestures with his hand and head. Mac was a little confused until she realized he wasn't looking at her. And that the music had changed into a Foxtrot again. She suppressed a giggle while her gaze shot back to Bud.

Bud gulped hard as Webb narrowed his eyes at him. What was more, the man had obviously finished his call and shoved the cell phone back into his pocket. No more excuses. Taking a deep breath Bud faced his wife.

"Harriet?"

"Yes, Bud?" Harriet tried to hold the excitement out of her voice.

"Harriet, w-would you..." Bud could feel his determination waver. Suddenly he was sweating.

"Yes?"

"Would you..." His gaze fell onto her nearly empty glass. "... like another drink?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Jumping up he grabbed her glass together with his own and practically fled. Harriet sighed disappointed and exchanged a look with Mac. Mac shrugged.

Behind their backs Bud breathed in relieve - and stopped dead in his tracks after just a few steps. Almost nose to nose with Clayton Webb who had crossed the room in a flash and was now very effectively blocking his way. With a dangerous expression on his face. Bud gulped once more.

Without ever taking his eyes of Bud Webb reached out, picked the glassed out of his hands, handed them a startled Mantoni who was just about to pass them, grabbed Bud's shoulders, spun him around and pushed him rather violently back into Harriet's direction.

Bud stumbled forward then regained his balance. Harriet and Mac looked up as he cleared his throat.

"Ah - uh - hello, Harriet."

"Hello, Bud." Harriet tried to smile as encouragingly as possible.

"H-Harriet, w-would you..." Bud could feel Webb's glare burning a hole in the back of his uniform. "W-would you like to ... dancewithme?" he finished in a rush.

Harriet nodded, she was fighting against tears. "Yes, Bud. I'd be delighted."

Bud smiled nervously and offered his arm. Webb followed them to the dance floor, leaving behind a speechless Mantoni who glanced back and forth between the glasses in his hands and Webb's retreating back.

Reaching the dance floor destroyed the last remains of Bud's self- confidence. With shaking hands he managed to take Harriet into his arms but then his eyes searched for Webb, panic clearly visible on his face. Webb shook his head, rested the right elbow on his other arm and tapped the beat against his chin. Bud stared like hypnotized at his finger, started nodding together with it, counted ... and stormed into the first step.

Webb grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut. When there was no scream he blinked carefully. Harriet had somehow avoided Bud's foot - at least he had started with the left one - and the couple was moving stiffly over the dance floor. Groaning Webb covered his face with his hand.

Meanwhile Bud counted desperately his steps. All he could think of was to make no mistakes. And not to step on Harriet's foot. Occupied like that he needed quite some time to realize how good it felt to hold her in his arms. It was definitely different than dancing with Webb or Karen. And it felt good. Very good. Harriet was following his lead so easy and natural... and she was smiling so proudly. His heart jumped as did the level of his self-confidence. In fact it jumped so high that he decided to try a right- hand-turn.

From the side Webb watched the turn - not by the book but nicely corrected - and allowed himself a satisfied nod. To his relief the Lieutenant was relaxing more and more and was finally going with the music instead of mechanically putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe these past two evenings hadn't been a waste of time after all.

He suddenly felt a peck on his cheek. Turning his head he found Mac smiling at him.

"That was very, very kind of you," she whispered. "They're such a wonderful couple. But your poor foot."

It dawned on him. "You've known?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

He raised his brows. "And she's known too?"

"You don't really think Bud can keep a secret from Harriet?" Mac's inner laughter sparkled in her eyes and voice. "He acted so suspiciously that we followed him yesterday."

Webb snorted then chuckled. "Just don't think too highly of me. It has been blackmail, pure and simple."

Mac slipped an arm around his waist. "It doesn't matter. You've done it." She glanced at the dance floor. "Are we going to join them?"

She was so close to him he could smell her perfume. And suddenly he grew serious. No more excuses. Mac felt the change in his mood and looked at him in a silent question.

"Sarah ... I want to show you something." Webb looked around. "I know it's not the best timing but ... I really want to show you something. We can come back afterwards if you want to."

Mac saw the pleading in his eyes. She nodded slowly, not sure what he was up to. "Sure, no problem."

Webb led her to the entrance. In the doorway he turned back one last time and across the room and the people Harriet caught his eye. She mouthed a 'thank you' over Bud's shoulder. Webb's lips curled up into a smile. He bowed his head and tapped the brim of an imaginary hat. Then her view was blocked by other dancers and when she was able to see the entrance again he and the Colonel were gone.

Harriet sighed and glanced up to Bud.

"You know, it may sound like a cliché but ... you really are my favorite dancer, Bud."

Bud beamed. "Yes, it sounds like a cliché - but I love it nevertheless."

"I love you, Bud," Harriet whispered back.

Bud said nothing - with that broad grin on his face it wasn't necessary anyway. So he pulled her just a little bit closer and swung her into a right-hand-turn.


	6. Answers and

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**- Arlington cemetery, Saturday evening**

"I'm still wondering how you do these things. Two phone calls and we're walking through Arlington hours after they've closed up." Mac glanced around. She hadn't seen that coming. In fact she had thought he was joking when he'd told her where to drive to. But it hadn't been a joke. Instinctively she wrapped the summer coat tighter around her body. There was enough light left although the sun had set so it wasn't eerie ... but still, it was a cemetery.

"Connections," Webb answered seriously. "You can't live and work in Washington without connections. And Dan is used to it. I prefer coming here when it's ... quiet."

They were walking fast. Mac tried to remember if he had ever mentioned a family grave at Arlington. Maybe his father? No, his father was missing. She looked up and slowed down, finally stopped completely.

Webb was two steps ahead before he noticed and turned. "Sarah?"

Mac gestured with her hand. "Over there... There's Little Sarah's grave. Bud's and Harriet's daughter."

Webb's eyes were sad. "I know."

Mac looked at him but he said nothing more. So she walked up to him and they continued on their way. Five minutes later Webb left the path and led her between the gravestones. He was still walking fast, absolutely sure of where he was going. When he stopped she almost ran into him.

Feeling uneasy she waited for him to explain why they where here. But he was just looking down at one of the gravestones. Hesitantly Mac followed his gaze. She read the letters once then twice.

Michael Hardcastle-Webb. July 22, 1989.

Mac frowned. She didn't understand.

"He was my son."

Mac's jaw dropped. It took her breath away and all she could do was stare at him then back at the gravestone and again at the man beside her, looking so unwaveringly down at the grave.

"Harriet," she murmured finally, "Harriet... She knows."

Webb took a deep breath. "She knows that. But not how." His gaze was still glued to the grave. "Pat and I... We had known each other since childhood. The same background. The same ... social events to go, the same course of education ... more or less." Webb paused. "Pat was... it was easy to talk to her. It was ... a suitable match. I think we were in love."

Mac tried to control her ragged breathing. Webb was lost in his memory.

"We were engaged for quite a while. We had just set a date for the wedding when we discovered that we ... had jumped the gun a little: she was pregnant. We got some raised eyebrows because of that but to us ... it didn't seem to matter. It had been difficult enough to find an appropriate date and there was enough time left from there to the calculated date of birth and so we ... decided to let things run."

Webb paused again. Mac could see how much it took out of him to tell her this. She didn't dare to interrupt. She wasn't sure he'd have heard her if she had.

"Two weeks before the wedding Patricia got an infection. First we didn't realize it but then she got contractions and we ended up in the hospital and..." Webb shut his eyes for a second but quickly opened them again as if he couldn't bear the pictures he was seeing in his mind. "They tried to ... to stop the contractions but in the end they asked permission to do a Caesarean. They said there was at least a tiny chance for the child and otherwise both would certainly die."

He turned away from Mac. But not before she got a glimpse at the pain on his face. When she thought he wouldn't continue he spoke again.

"It was too early. Much too early. The 27th week. They did everything they could but ... it was too early. He lived just a few hours."

The despair and fear of that day came back and clenched like a fist around his throat. How he had run back and forth between the bed of his fiancée, unconscious and fighting for her own life, and the incubator of his son. He had been allowed to touch him and he still remembered his surprise at how tiny he had been - how he had almost been able to cup his body in one hand.

"Just a few hours," he whispered again.

Mac swallowed her tears. Now she understood why he had reacted so harsh to her question. But how should she have known? How could she have known?

Webb looked up to the darkening sky. He breathed deeply.

"Pat wanted Arlington. She's in the Army, a long family tradition, and so it had to be Arlington. I couldn't deny her that." He kept glancing around, looking everywhere but not at Mac. "We were not able to work it out. Pat recovered completely but ... between the two of us ... it wasn't what it had been before. We canceled the wedding of course. And somehow we blamed each other for what had happened. I blamed her for getting the infection ... and she blamed me for signing the papers and allowing the Caesarean." He shook his head very slowly. "And after half a year of picking on and hurting each other ... we decided to go separate ways, at least for a while. It turned out to be forever."

Mac stared at the grave. She felt shabby to ask but she had to. She just had to.

"And now?"

Webb smiled ironically. "Now?" He shrugged. "Now Pat is happily married, has two lively children and we are able to smile at each other when we meet at the Pentagon from time to time." He glanced at her but looked away quickly. "In fact you've seen her. Today."

"Oh." And suddenly the last piece fell into place. "Oh," Mac whispered again, "The woman at the ball."

"The woman at the ball," Webb confirmed quietly. He looked at the grave and shoved his hands a little bit deeper into his pockets.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He had feared this question because there was no easy answer to it. At least none that wouldn't hurt. Him ... or her.

"I wasn't sure if I could trust you." Spoken aloud the words sounded terribly wrong and so he tried again. "Maybe trust is the wrong expression. I just wasn't sure... I barely ever talk about my son. And I ... wasn't ready to share this memory as long as ... I wasn't sure where this - this between us - is going." That didn't sound much better and so he went for a more simple truth. "I thought you were still angry with me because of the file. That you ... wanted to take it slow because you..." This time he trailed off to silence.

Mac looked like she had just received a cold shower. But his last sentence confused her the most. "What file?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh God, Clayton. Why should I be angry with you because of the file?"

He shot her an insecure glance. "You lost your case."

"Because of my own stupidity! Clayton, I was never angry. I asked for information and you gave it to me. It wasn't what I expected but that wasn't your fault." She gathered her thoughts. "And about the rest of your little speech... I asked you to take it slow because I wanted to know you better before ... anything. Can't you understand that?"

"I..." Webb's gaze wandered over the ocean of gravestones. "I've learnt long ago not to talk about these things. Personal things. I'm - I'm trying but it's hard... And especially when I don't know ... what to expect."

Mac drew in a deep breath. "I don't know what to expect too, Clayton. I - I've known you for years and whenever we meet I realize I don't know you at all. It's hard enough to deal with your job but I can't deal with being pushed out of your personal life too."

"It's not like a coat, Mac." Webb gritted his teeth. He felt Mac's confused stare.

"I know some of us are able to just shrug it off as soon as they leave in the evening and live a normal life but ... I've never been able to do that. And I don't want to. The people I'm responsible for, the decisions I once took and are taking every day and the effect they have on people all over the world ... it wouldn't be right to just ... shrug it off." For the first time since they had come to this place he looked her straight in the eyes. "I'm not talking about things like ... like my son. Maybe ... maybe I can learn to open up there as I've learnt to bottle up. But there are other things. Things important to what I am, part of my life ... that I will never be able to share with you. Sometimes I can't divide up into a personal and a working life. It's all mixed up and woven together and -" He came up for air. "There'll always be secrets. And if you ... if you can't deal with that then ... then maybe we better stop here before ... before it's too late."

When Mac didn't answer his heart sank. A cold lump formed in his chest. His gaze fell back down on the gravestone. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get away from here, back to the safety of his apartment, back to the safety of his loneliness. He had revealed too much of his soul already.

"We better go now." He turned and they walked back to the path. In silence, a gap between their bodies and the hands shoved deeply into their pockets.

Mac gazed at her feet. All that had happened this evening was running through her head again and again. So many of Clayton's words had hurt - her feelings, her pride, her soul. And there was so much truth in his words. As much as he was willing to try - as much as he was willing to let her into his very being ... she would never be a part of his whole and entire life. The question was: Wanted she to be?

She had been angry when Mic had tried to make her a part of his life by showing her around as 'his beautiful fiancée'. She had felt like a trophy ... and had never realized that his pride in her had been rather a compliment. She had wanted their relationship on her conditions and only on hers. She was still ashamed of how she had treated him. How she had hurt him by encouraging his hope only to drop him at the last and most painful moment. She understood his anger and his decision to leave much better now. There was this saying about first walking some miles in the other one's shoes ... or moccasins? She had always thought everything would be better with Harm ... but she had never fully understood Harm's wish to fly. Or his hesitation to talk to her. She had never been able to deal with this part of his personality - to really deal with it - and it had all added to the large pool of things that had kept them apart.

She didn't know if she was able to live with Clay's secrets. But on the other hand ... was she ready to throw away his love? Was she able to throw away ... her love? Was she in love with him? She liked him. She even had been jealous of Harriet, of all things! And yes, she wanted to find out why it felt so good to be in his company. Maybe ... maybe it was time not only to take but also to give.

'Maybe Harriet has been right. Maybe we have really only so much in common with another person as we are willing to find out. Or as we are willing not to find out.'

"You know there's one good thing," she said quietly. Still not looking at him.

Webb glanced at her but said nothing.

"Whenever I'll get mad at you... Whenever I'll want to kick you out of my sight and my life..." Mac chose her words carefully. "I can always remember that somewhere underneath this annoying shell of 'classified' and 'need to know' ... is the lovable man who taught Bud to dance with Harriet. And that will always be a good reason to think twice."

This time Webb's glance was longer. She met his eyes. And then he started slowly to smile.

"By the way, I'm deeply impressed," Mac continued in a light tone. "I could never dance the man's part, and you not only did the woman's one but also found the time to talk and correct Bud."

Mac inched a little bit closer to him until they walked shoulder to shoulder.

"Well, to share another secret," Webb imitated her light tone, "Karen and Frank who own this dancing school are good friends of my mother. And when Karen was pregnant with their first child I, well, helped out as an instructor during college vacation."

"No - you? A dancing instructor?" Mac laughed out loud.

Webb shook his head. "Why is everybody laughing at that thought? Can you explain this to me?" But he was still smiling.

"I will," Mac promised, "Someday."

She reached out. She had intended to slip her hand through his arm but his hand met hers before she even touched his wrist. Their fingers entwined.

"All right," Webb agreed softly, "Someday."

* * *

The end.

Author's note:

Thank you very much for the reviews and sorry it has taken me so long to post this story. I hope you've enjoyed it anyway.


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